


Under my skin

by Ein_Nachkussen



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 'how we met' story, Alfred is a big dork, Cute, Cute Ending, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Some Swearing, Tattoo Shop AU, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 04:35:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13709937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ein_Nachkussen/pseuds/Ein_Nachkussen
Summary: While accompanying his friend to get his first tattoo, Alfred has a chance encounter where he quickly finds himself falling into a pattern of getting tattoos until he can find the courage to ask out the artist.





	Under my skin

Matthew was the last person who Alfred expected to want a tattoo the second he was of legal age. The day after the Canadians birthday, he dragged Alfred to the local tattoo parlour, determined to get a tattoo of a moose head silhouette on his shoulder blade.

“Are you sure you want this?” Alfred asked nervously, watching Matthew wait with a wide smile as he bounced his knee, waiting for his appointment.

“Yeah! I’ve wanted this since I was 16!” Matthew pointed out.

“Have you told anyone else? Your parents?” Alfred asked.

“Yeah, they’re fine with it—as long as I don’t get anything obscene,” Matthew replied, “It will be so cool! I’m so excited!!”

“I never thought you’d actually do it…” Alfred admitted, “I’ve debated getting one…”

“Well, we’re here, so if you want to, now may be a good opportunity—we can get them together!” Matthew exclaimed.

“No, no, no!” Alfred sighed, gripping his hair as he shook his head while Matthew laughed, “I can’t do that! My Mom would kill me!”  

“Matthew Williams,” A man announced as he walked into the waiting area, surprising Alfred and Matthew, as they both rose to enter the tattoo parlour. “Is this a friend of yours?”

“Yeah, can he come with me?” Matthew asked, “It’s my first time.”

“Sure, why not, maybe you can even get something done too?” The artist suggested, shaking Alfred’s hand after shaking Matthew’s.

Alfred swallowed nervously, “Not sure, maybe this’ll help me decide… Hah…”

“Well, we have a bunch of artists who are free, so if it’s something quick, don’t hesitate to ask or book an appointment if you want something bigger—now, Matthew, you want a moose silhouette?”

“Yeah, with the big antlers,” Matthew chuckled, placing his fingers on his head as though they were antlers.

“That is so damn Canadian,” The artist chuckled as Matthew laughed in the chair after he and Alfred were led into a private room, which was small and decorated with red walls that were covered in pictures of tattoos, that Alfred assumed were done by the artist that Matthew had booked. “So, it’s your first tattoo, what I’m gonna do is have you sign a couple of things, just about legality and consent for this and all, then I’m gonna clean up the skin...”

Alfred didn’t want to hear any of it, in fact, he regretted not staying in the waiting room as Matthew and the tattoo artist talked like they were at the damn dentist. Just the idea of needles, no less ones that injected ink made Alfred very nervous, especially as the tattoo artist showed them the Matthew and explained what he could expect. All while Alfred was still getting over the fact that Matthew was getting this in the first place—his sweet and innocent childhood friend; the mothers favourite, was getting his first tattoo. While there was nothing wrong with tattoos, Alfred just couldn’t see Matthew as the type of person to get one.

Alfred bit his lip and crossed his legs when he heard the buzz of the needle echoed through the room, and Alfred was determined to look anywhere else. But when he heard Matthew hiss from the pain, Alfred stood up.

“Good luck, dude, I’m gonna wait outside,” Alfred said as he shook Matthew’s free hand, before walking out of the private room. Sighing, Alfred shivered after the door closed and Alfred was left hearing the buzz of multiple tattoo machines echoing through the larger main studio, where more people were getting tattoos done.

“Can I help you?” A voice asked, in a harsh British accent. Surprised, Alfred turned away to see that he was standing in the way of a shorter man, who was dressed completely in black, which only made his light blonde hair stand out more against his pale skin. Alfred could only assume that he was one of the artists.

But once Alfred got a better look at him, Alfred stuttered, “S-Sorry.”

The man was absolutely gorgeous and left Alfred somewhat awestruck, enough to steal the American’s breath away, despite looking less than impressed himself. His blonde hair fell across his forehead in a set of bangs, and fluffed around the rest of his head, but the majority was hidden under a firm brimmed black hat, and which, when the Englishman lifted his head, created a small black halo around his head. This only left Alfred to wonder how soft the man’s hair could be underneath, and how cute that hat made him look. The man had soft looking pale and perfectly clear skin, with only a few freckles under his eyes which were a pigmented green and under a set of thick but symmetrical brunette eyebrows. His cute pixie nose twitched slightly as the Englishman curved his thin lips into a pout, awaiting something more from Alfred. But Alfred just couldn’t stop thinking about how the man who stood before him looked just like a pristine antique procaine doll. He was dressed fairly nicely too, with a black buttoned up shirt, which was littered with little white crosses, a large black cardigan which nearly devoured his entire back and reached his knees, which were covered by a pair of tight black jeans, and a pair of black boots. Even with the tattoos that covered both of his hands, he looked absolutely adorable and suddenly, the needles were the last thing on Alfred’s mind.

“Can I help you?” The artist repeated, firmer in his tone of voice, which only sent a shiver down his spine. “You can’t be here if you’re not getting something done.”

Suddenly, when the man touched Alfred’s arm, Alfred lost control, _“I—I am, actually…”_

“Oh? Do you have an appointment?” The artist asked, frowning.

“No, but the artist with my friend said that I could get a quick one if I asked,” Alfred explained, pointing to the red door into where Matthew was getting his tattoo. The stranger reacted, rubbing his head with his fingers in irritation, thankfully he seemed to understand what Alfred was talking about.

 _“Of course he did…”_ He grumbled, “Let me guess, he told you to ask for Arthur?”

 _“Yes,”_ Alfred lied, praying that the man before him was referencing himself.

“Fine, then you have found your artist.”

“So, you’re Arthur?” Alfred asked.

“Yes,” Arthur replied, shaking Alfred’s hand as he continued, leaving Alfred stunned by the softness of his hands, and the detailed art that decorated it. “What are you interested in getting?” The artists asked. 

Panicking, Alfred went with the first idea he had, which was the same one he rejected when Matthew suggested that he gets one too, “I just want a simple star shape on my wrist.”

The artists shrugged smiling slightly, “Should be easy enough, that’s fine. Come with me and I’ll quote you properly. What’s your name?” 

“Alfred!” Alfred replied, trying to not look as nervous as he felt when Arthur gestured for Alfred to sit in a long black chair with the feet up and padded arm rests, as Arthur took a seat in the artists chair beside it.

“Now, you just want a star on your wrist, which one?” Arthur asked, and Alfred responded by lifting the wrist closest to Arthur.

“This one!”

“Aright,” Arthur murmured as he wheeled over to a desk and grabbed a few papers and a pen before rolling back to Alfred, “I just need you to fill out some details and show some ID.”

“No problem,” Alfred replied, taking the wallet out of his back pocket, thankful that he remembered to put his ID in there, and after passing the ID to Arthur, Alfred started to fill out the details sheet. Which also involved signing a waver, stating that he understands that this is permanent.

This was when it hit Alfred that this really was permanent, that there was going to be a star on his wrist for the rest of his life. Every time he looked at his left wrist, he was going to think of Arthur, and think of how he got a tattoo just because he thought the artist was hot. This was so far out of Alfred’s character, even for a spontaneous guy like him. 

He can just tell people he got it because he loves his country, which technically isn’t a lie… But to get a tattoo on his wrist…

 _Fuck it,_ Alfred internally hissed, signing the waver—he was not going to back out now! Besides, he could ask for Arthur’s number during this! He looks like someone who’s into guys, or would be interested in giving it a go—plus, the way he looked at Alfred made the Americans heart race, there had to be something there between them, even in a moment like this.

The way that Arthur held Alfred’s wrist sent a shiver down his spine, “Do you want it to be just the outline, or coloured in?”

“Just the line,” Alfred answered, drawing out a small start shape on his wrist, so it wasn’t too big, “About the size of a quarter.”

“Ohh ok, yeah,” Arthur replied, before drawing a small star on Alfred’s wrist with the red pen. “Like this?”

“Yes! Perfect!” Alfred replied.

“Wait, don’t you want me to do it a few times, I can print something out for you, just to make it perfect,” Arthur explained, taken aback by Alfred’s enthusiasm.

“I like it though,” Alfred admitted, growing to like the drawing the longer he started at it, “Although, you don’t have to do the crossover lines, I just like the outlines, like on the flag: you know?”

“Yeah,” Arthur replied, “In black lines?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright,” Arthur muttered, lightly rubbing the sides of Alfred’s wrist, Alfred tried as hard as he could to remain still—praying that Arthur wouldn’t stop. “So, for something like this… I’ll do it for $55.”

“Really?” Alfred gasped.

“Hey, the other guys here would do it for $70!” Arthur hissed, before giving Alfred a wink, which stole Alfred’s breath away, “This is my special rate.”

“Hahah,” Alfred stuttered, praying that he wasn’t blushing, as his cheeks were burning on the inside, “So, how much can I expect in terms of pain?”

“Some tattoos hurt more than others, and generally you can expect pain on any part of the body.” Arthur explained, lightly running his finger along the skin of Alfred’s wrist, although he was careful to avoid ruining the star he drew, “The skin around your whole wrist is very thin, meaning that the tattooing needles require little effort in order to reach bone in a lot of areas of the wrist. As the needles hits close to the bone, you may feel quite an uncomfortable vibrating feeling, at some point, it may feel rather sharp and intense.”

No matter what Arthur was saying, his accent made the words sound as sweet as honey. His accent was charming and very alluring, no matter the tone of voice. Alfred had become completely smitten by his tattoo artist, and prayed that he could find the courage to ask him for a number by the end of the session.

“You’re getting this on the inner wrist, which can be quite painful due to soft and sensitive nature of the skin around that area. And there’s the fact that the insides of your wrists generally have more nerves running through them when compared to the outsides – this can heighten the amount of pain you may feel in this area. But should be manageable.” Arthur explained before giving Alfred a teasing smile, which made the Americans hairs stand on end, “Let me know if you can’t take it.”

“Oh, it bet I’ll be fine,” Alfred replied, flashing Arthur his best smiling, as though he was trying to ask the Englishman out with his smile alone. It made Arthur laugh as he rolled away, before grabbing a small table on wheels, which held the tattoo machine and inks.

“Now, are you sure you’re ok with this outline, once it’s done, I can’t undo it. And I’m not the best at doing cover-ups,” Arthur admitted. 

“You’ve done it perfectly, don’t worry about it,” Alfred replied, giving Arthur a thumbs-up with his free hand, as Arthur rubbed a sanitising liquid on Alfred’s wrist, being careful to not ruin the outline.

Even Arthur seemed to blush as he hesitantly dipped the needle head into a small pod of black ink, “You’re calm for someone about to get his first tattoo.”

“Yeah,” Alfred agreed, glad that his internal raging anxiety wasn’t showing as Arthur bent down in front of Alfred’s wrist, his green eyes narrowing in focus as the buzz of the machine sent an anxious shiver down Alfred’s spine. _“Fuck…”_ Alfred whimpered.

“It’ll be ok, if you need me to stop, I can,” Arthur explained, “Don’t think about it and you’ll be fine. I can talk to you if that helps.”

“Where are you from?” Alfred asked.

“London,” Arthur answered, “Came to America four years ago, I lived in Los Angeles for two years, before moving to San Francisco.”

“Heh, I’m from the south LA area, I came here for college,” Alfred explained.

“That’s nice, what are you studying?” Arthur asked.

“I’m a third-year student in an engineering degree,” Alfred stuttered, breathing deeply as he tried his best to ignore the mild pain from the needle, and the extreme pain caused by his anxiety, he was trying his absolute hardest to not jolt and ruin this, otherwise he would really regret it. “I should be finishing it next year.”

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Arthur replied, “I debated going to university here and getting an arts degree, but I just can’t be fucked, and I already have a job in my dream-area.”

 _“Oh yeah?”_ Alfred squeaked, feeling the pain intensify, “Have you always wanted to be a tattoo artist?”

“Yes, and I want to have my own shop someday. I’ve been drawing on people for as long as I can remember—although, I always did it using pens and markers. I was so happy when I got my first apprenticeship,” Arthur explained, as Alfred decided to focus on Arthur’s hand, and looking at the detailed work.

From what he could see of Arthur’s right hand, he had the words ‘What’s past is prologue’ written on his hand in thin cursive writing, boarding a small sparrow, which was heavily shaded, with some red colouring. While the rest of Arthur’s hand was covered in more dark details, and each of the tips of his fingers had the letters for ‘L I V E’ written across in thin, but bold font. Only the starting half of his pointer finger had a crown tattooed across it, like a ring. Meanwhile, his entire thumb was covered by a detailed and shaded sketch of a rose, while the stem moved down the side of his hand and down to his wrist. Alfred could tell that Arthur had more tattoos on his left hand, but Arthur wasn’t sitting in a way that Alfred could see it. This only left Alfred to wonder what other tattoos Arthur had.

 _“Urhhhhh…”_ Alfred grumbled, trying so hard to resist turning away from the deep pain that came from the wrist.

“It will be ok, I’m halfway done,” Arthur replied, “Do you need a break?”

“No, I’m good, I’m good,” Alfred replied.

 _“Oh my God, Alfred!”_ Matthew cheered as he and his artist walked past where Arthur was sitting, “You actually got one!”

“Yeah! I thought that I may as well, why the hell not?!” Alfred chuckled, as Matthew walked to stand next to him, before turning around to show Alfred the tattoo on his shoulder by lifting the sleeve of his red t-shirt, showing Alfred the tattoo, which had been covered in cling-wrap. As Matthew said, he had gotten a bold tattoo of the silhouette of a moose’s head which was around the size of the palm of Alfred’s hand, with powerful antlers, the entire tattoo was black and bold. _“Whoooooooa.”_

“Isn’t it so cool!?” Matthew asked, nearly jumping with excitement, “I’m gonna go pay and then I’ll come back.”

“No need, we’re finished,” Arthur admitted, whipping clean Alfred’s tattoo, revealing the bold lines he had drawn on Alfred’s skin.

“Oh my God! That looks so freaking cool, Al!!” Matthew gasped, leaning over to view the tattoo with Arthur.

“What do you think?” Arthur asked, lifting Alfred’s hand so he could see his wrist perfectly, and once again, Alfred was taken by surprise—it actually looked pretty awesome, even if it was such a simple tattoo, Alfred had come to love it.

“That looks so awesome! I love it!” Alfred replied, loving the smile on Arthur’s face as he pulled some cling wrap off the table with one hand, and rubbed some more ointment on Alfred’s tattoo with his other hand.

“Now, be sure to leave this cover on for four hours, even six, this is going to protect your broken skin from bacteria. When you take the cover off you need to softly clean the tattoo and pat it dry, and apply some ointment, which you can buy from the front or at any other tattoo parkour, and then you should be good to go,” Arthur explained as he applied the dressing.

“Sweet, thank you so much, I love it!” Alfred explained as he rose from the chair, reaching to shake Arthur’s hand, which was still radiating heat from inside the disposable glove.

“I’m glad you do, don’t hesitate to come back,” Arthur chuckled as he firmly shook Alfred’s hand as he rose from his chair.

This was the moment now, Alfred had to do it, _he has to ask for Arthur’s number!_ Alfred’s heart raced as he felt Arthur let go of his hand, and Alfred was too nervous to hear what he said to Matthew and his fellow artist.

Does Arthur like men? Would he like a guy like Alfred?! What if he says no?! Is that worth the risk of Alfred’s new tattoo being a constant reminder of the moment that Alfred was rejected by probably the hottest guy he’s ever seen?

 _“I…”_ Alfred whispered, but he froze when Arthur said goodbye to him, and the American could barely choke out anything else as Arthur walked past him, quickly marching back into the studio—grumbling about finally being allowed to go on break. _“Wait, shit!”_ Alfred gasped, barely loud enough for others to hear as he and Matthew were escorted to the front, where Alfred paid for his tattoo and aftercare ointment with a bad taste in his mouth.

He failed, he failed the one mission he had—he failed to do the one fucking thing that he got this fucking tattoo for!! This was going to bother him for the rest of his life, he knew it.

\-------------

“You don’t look too happy, man,” Matthew pointed out, frowning with concern as he and Alfred ate their pizza dinner, supposedly celebrating getting their tattoos.

“I… Ok, _do not judge me,”_ Alfred grumbled, leaning closer to Matthew across the table, hoping that their other roommate, who was in the kitchen behind them, doesn’t hear them.

“Yeah, what’s going on?” Matthew nodded, leaning in to meet Alfred at the corner of the wooden dining table.

“I really got this tattoo cause…” Alfred sighed, gritting his teeth, _“I wanted to ask the artist out…”_

“Oh my God…” Matthew gasped, before breaking into a light chuckle, “You wanted to ask out a tattoo artist, by getting a fucking tattoo!”

“But here’s the thing, this tattoo was so fucking quick, and I was so fucking nervous, I blew my chance!” Alfred admitted, sighing as he watched Matthew nearly choke on his bite of pizza, obviously trying really hard to not burst into humiliating laughter.

 _“Oh shit,”_ Matthew gasped, “That fucking sucks. That artist was Arthur, right?”

“Yeah, even better, I don’t know if he’s gay!” Alfred pointed out, “All I have is a few smiles from him, and a really good deal on my tattoo—he could be interested, or he could just be a really nice guy! I don’t know! _Arrhhhh,_ he was so hot, I should have asked for his number!”

“There, there,” Matthew sighed, patting Alfred’s shoulder sympathetically, even though he was still fighting the pesky smile on his thin lips, even in his light violet eyes; Alfred could tell that he was fighting the urge to laugh, “Looks like you’ll just have to get another tattoo to see him again.”

It was then that Alfred found himself staring at his tattoo, wondering whether it would look cool if Alfred turned his tattoo into part of a simple banner—his dad is former military, and would _love it._

“Oh shit, dude, I was kidding,” Matthew cautioned.

“I’m not—” Alfred muttered, showing Matthew the star on his wrist, “I’m thinking that I can get Arthur to turn this into a little banner, one half can be red and the other light blue. That’d look so cool!”

“Well, yeah—but don’t just get a tattoo because you want to ask the artist out,” Matthew explained, but Alfred was already on his phone, looking up the phone number of the tattoo parlour where Arthur worked, ready to make his appointment. “Oh my God.”

\-------

Once again, Alfred found himself waiting nervously in the waiting room of the tattoo parlour, his leg bouncing with anticipation as he listened to the buzz of tattoo needles echo from the studio. He found himself starting at the tattoo, wondering whether he will really have the courage to ask Arthur out this time—and if his new tattoo is going to be aligned with a good memory, or a painful one.

Alfred wasn’t scared of the needles anymore, he was scared of rejection.

“Alfred,” Arthur announced, looking for Alfred in the waiting room, smiling when Alfred rose from his seat and shook Arthur’s hand, “Back for more?”

“Yeah, I thought of an addition that would look super cool,” Alfred explained as Arthur quickly led him to the same chair he sat in one week ago.

“Nice,” Arthur chuckled as he handed Alfred the same papers and pen. “What you described on the phone sounds pretty good, I think I know what you’re talking about.”

Like the first time he saw him, Arthur was dressed completely in black; wearing a black and grey checkered cardigan which was rolled up to his elbows and was long enough to reach his knees, underneath he wore a low-cut black t-shirt and a thick black choker around his neck. The same pair of tight black jeans hugged his legs in all the right places, and he wore a different pair of black boots, which even had a slightly elevated heel. With this outfit, Alfred could see more of Arthur’s tattoos, which completely covered the inside of his left arm, which was all that Alfred could see from this angle, and as Arthur started lining the outline of Alfred’s latest tattoo, he couldn’t help but stare. Arthur’s forearm was decorated with a detailed sketch of a moth surrounded by bold and sharp lines, which formed a diamond shape around the moth, and had been shaded in a way to make it look like the moth was encased in glass. It was highly detailed and very realistic, impressive…

“So, are you not worried about the pain this time?” Arthur asked, before lifting Alfred’s wrist to show him the design, and of course: Alfred loved it.

“That’s great, and no, I’m not too worried about it, the talking really helped,” Alfred replied.

“You sure that this is alright, I’m not used to doing lines freehanded,” Arthur explained.

“Well, I think you’ve done it perfectly,” Alfred replied, smiling at Arthur, satisfied to see the Englishman blush.

Arthur quickly got into doing his work, and the familiar buzz of the tattoo needle filled Alfred’s ear, and the dreadful anxiety filled Alfred’s heart. This was his chance to finally do this right and ask Arthur out, but he had no idea where to start – usually he was the one being hit on.

But then, Alfred got lost looking into the Englishman’s eyes as he narrowed them in concentration, the green colour remained just as intoxicating, even when darkened with intense thought. It was hot, Alfred thought. And that was what reminded him of what a stupid idea this was—what if Arthur has a girlfriend, or worse, what if he’s homophobic? That would be the absolute worst!

“So, uhh,” Alfred stuttered, before flinching slightly from the pain.

“Feeling ok?” Arthur asked, “I get mixed reviews from people, sometimes the pain lessens after the first time, and sometimes it feels worse.”

“I’m fine!” Alfred whimpered, before biting his lip, _“Fuck.”_  

“It’s going to feel slightly worse with the shading,” Arthur cautioned, “But it shouldn’t last long, this is a small tattoo.”

 _“Great,”_ Alfred grumbled, grinding his teeth. Shit, he doesn’t have much time to do this. “Are you doing anything this weekend?”

“I’m going to be at the shop most of the time, but at least we close early on Sunday’s, you know? What about you?” Arthur asked, not even looking away from Alfred’s wrist as he finished drawing the black boarder of the banner, making sure it matched the line width as the original star on Alfred’s wrist.

“Studying, I have a huge test on Monday,” Alfred replied.

“Darn,” Arthur murmured.

“I was wondering, are you seeing anyone?” Alfred asked, praying that he wasn’t going as red as he felt inside, seeing as though his cheeks were burning and his heart was thumping so loud, it was beginning to hurt.

Arthur frowned, glancing up at Alfred as he changed needles, “No, why?”

 _“Was just wondering,”_ Alfred replied, weakly as he internally cursed himself for not taking the opportunity as Arthur returned to the task, shading the first red half of Alfred’s banner tattoo.

And then, Alfred’s anxiety crept up on him more the longer he and the Englishman remained in silence, but that was probably for the best: so Arthur could concentrate. But it was eating Alfred up on the inside, wanting to ask the Englishman out so bad, it was starting to hurt, and he could feel his chance slipping away the longer he and Arthur remained in silence. Then, before Alfred knew it, Arthur was finished shading in the first half of the tattoo, and was dipping a new needle into the blue pot, picking up the colour for the last part of Alfred’s tattoo.

Really feeling the pressure, Alfred started to speak, trying his best to not allow the pain to make him falter too much, “How many tattoos do you have?”

“A fair few,” Arthur muttered, “I should show you sometime…”

“Oh yeah?” Alfred asked.

“I’ve got a sleeve up my left arm, this on my right hand, and a couple on my chest. I still have a lot of free space, but I am rather picky about what I get put on me,” Arthur explained, before chuckling in a way that sent the butterflies in Alfred’s stomach into a frenzy, “I always need to get nan’s approval, I need to send her photos of the sketches or I won’t be allowed back in her house.”

“So, wait, did you draw them?” Alfred asked.

“Yeah, I drew them out on paper and then had my friend create a stencil and then draw it on me,” Arthur replied, “So technically, yes, they are my work _. Arthur Kirkland originals.”_

“Nice…” Alfred gasped, wanting some ‘Arthur Kirkland originals’ of his own… “That is really cool! You’re really talented!”

“Thank you,” Arthur replied bashfully, before sighing as he wiped Alfred’s wrist, _“Done!”_

 _“Whoa!”_ Alfred gasped, stunned by the bright colours and the bold lines of his new tattoo, how Arthur managed to keep his lines perfectly straight was an absolute miracle! Starting from the small star in the centre of the wrist, three symmetrical lines ran down from the star, before meeting in a point at the end, like a banner, one half of the banner was a subtle red, and the other half was a calming blue. It wasn’t too bright, but at the same time, the colour was there, and that was just how Alfred wanted it. “It looks awesome, thank you so much!”

“Great, I’m glad you like it!” Arthur replied, taking Alfred’s arm and applying the ointment to his latest work of art, before covering it in the clear wrap. “I know I said this last time, but I will say it again: don’t take this off for a few hours, wash it gently, pat it dry and then apply the ointment.”

“Got it!” Alfred replied, smiling as Arthur started to lead him up the front of the parlour, where Alfred’s anxiety started to erupt all over again! His second chance was passing before his eyes and he’s too fucking shy to do anything about it! SHIT! ‘Oh, I, uhm…”

“Yes?” Arthur asked, smiling as he gestured to the receptionist to set Alfred up for payment.

Oh God, Alfred could feel the worlds eyes on him, and he froze like a plank of wood and his survival instincts kicked into overdrive, “Have good day.”

_Oh. My. God._

Alfred wanted to die, he felt like such an idiot as Arthur returned the saying with an awkward wave, before greeting his next customer, and just like that, Arthur was gone and Alfred felt like a fucking idiot.

\-----

Alfred had enough, and he made another appointment with the tattoo parlour to see Arthur again in one week’s time before Alfred had even returned home. He felt like a dog walking with a tail between his legs—he was so ready to ask Arthur out, but everything just came down on top of him at once and he fucked it up! Arthur probably thinks that he’s a socially awkward dork—and while that technically is true, that’s not what Alfred wanted Arthur’s first impression of him to be.

He wanted to be the guy to smoothly walk up to Arthur as ask for his next tattoo to be the Englishman’s phone number. But he knew that there was no way in hell that he could pull that off without tripping on his shoe lace or something fucking ridiculous like that.

He just wanted to ask the damn guy out, why was that so hard?!

That question bothered Alfred for the following seven days, all the time of which he also spent pondering over how he could initiate asking Arthur out in a way that completely made up for that stupid shit Alfred did. He wants his tattoos to be associated with the perfect memory of successfully asking a guy out—not with countless failed attempts to even pop the fucking question! And at the same time, Alfred still didn’t know if Arthur liked men! Alfred hated to assume things about people, especially sexuality, so he never wants to make a judgment like that – it was driving him crazy.

Alfred decided to go for another simple tattoo, but one that should take up some more time, which was the main idea. He wanted to set his star sign constellation, Cancer. It was simple, meaningful, and can be easily concealed—he actually really liked the idea.

But once again, Alfred found himself waiting nervously in the waiting room in the tattoo parlour, waiting for Arthur to come out and collect him. A mixture of adrenaline, anxiety and excitement swirled in his stomach, so much so that he couldn’t tell which one was more prevalent. But then, as soon as Arthur entered the waiting room, escorting his last client, Alfred decided that he was definitely more excited, he was ready to do this and not mess it up—this was going to be the tattoo that he will associate with conquering his fears, and hopefully even getting a date.

“Nice to see you again,” Arthur chuckled as he led Alfred back into the parlour, before letting the American take a seat and fill out the paperwork, “This is the third weekend in a row you’ve come to see me…”

“Yeah!” Alfred replied, trying to not appear as anxious as he felt, “Once I like something, I can’t stop!”

The way Arthur smiled at that sent the butterflies in Alfred’s stomach on fire, did that mean something without Alfred intending it to?!

Once again, Arthur was dressed darkly, wearing the same large black cardigan that nearly devoured his entire back and reached his knees, and he was also wearing the same pair of tight black jeans and black boots. But this time, Arthur was wearing a loose fitting black tank top which was covered in wiccan-inspired symbols, of which Alfred didn’t understand at all.

“I was surprised when the front told me that you booked me again within an hour after our last appointment,” Arthur admitted as he removed the black cardigan, a justifiable reaction to the hot day in San Francisco, and the shitty fan that was running air through the studio. Now Alfred could see the full sleeve of tattoos on the left arm that Arthur was talking about. Against his collarbone, Arthur had ‘Come what come may’ written in a fine, but neat font, and then on his shoulder he had a portrait of a cat with folded ears and a small nose, and was even wearing a small bowtie—very cute and realistic, for a tattoo illustration. But then, Alfred couldn’t help but sigh when he saw the tattoo underneath, of a gravestone with the words: ‘Beloved Grandad -- The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.’

“Yeah, I had a cool idea! I just couldn’t wait!” Alfred chuckled, “My star sign!”

“Mm, it is cute, yes—but where you want it is bothering me,” Arthur explained as he adjusted Alfred’s chair from behind, so Alfred was laying flat. And then after taking a seat in his special chair, Arthur adjusted the arm rest, so Alfred’s fit inner bicep was exposed and laying before Arthur. “You had to pick a pretty painful place.”

“Oh yeah?” Alfred asked, closing his eyes and smiling when Arthur ran his fingers along Alfred’s skin.

“Oh, this skin is so soft… This whole area incredibly sensitive to have tattooed. There are two nerves that run straight through the meaty inner part of your upper arm, making this area one of the most painful part of the arm to have tattooed after the inner elbow.” Arthur explained.

“Yeah, I get that, I did a little bit of research this time,” Alfred replied, “But I’ll be fine, I did well with my last two.”

“Those were tiny though, while at the same time—this is no challenge, don’t expect it to be as easy as the first two,” Arthur cautioned as he put on his disposable gloves.

Alfred had to admit, Arthur looked gorgeous from this angle, he could see the Englishman perfectly as he drew applied the stencil of the constellation that he printed out for Alfred’s appointment.

“What do you think of the placement?” Arthur asked, showing Alfred what his new tattoo would look like through a large hand mirror. “Do you want to get up and see it properly?”

“Nah, perfect again, you’re just too good at this,” Alfred chuckled.

“Stop it, you,” Arthur sighed bashfully as he finished the last preparations. From this close, Alfred could see the reddening of Arthur’s cheeks… Perhaps this is a sign…?

“I, um…. How was your week?” Alfred asked.

“Good…” Arthur admitted, “I did probably one of my best tattoos on this lady, she wanted an angel on her ribcage, and boy—I gave her a fucking angel, after giving her four hours of hell.”

“Nice.”

“I have a photo of it, if you want to see it after,” Arthur proposed.

“I’d like that,” Alfred admitted, smiling up at Arthur, feeling his heart race out of control, which was immediately scorned by the pain of his soft bicep skin being penetrated by a needle, and as Arthur said, it was far worse than his wrist tattoos. _“Ooooh, fuck.”_  

“Yeah,” Arthur muttered, “Now, try to keep still for me, this is very precise…”

 _“I—fucking hell,”_ Alfred gasped biting down so hard, he was scared of accidentally severing his tongue. He instantly hated this, and there was at least another twenty minutes of this hell left.  

 _“Breathe…”_ Arthur murmured, in a way that nearly completely calmed Alfred, because all of his blood went somewhere else in his body, urging Alfred to cross his legs and blush terribly. He needs to do this, he needs to ask Arthur out at the end of all this pain—he just has to keep looking at Arthur’s face, and keep thinking happy thoughts.

But then, Arthur stopped, “Fucking—Alfred…”

“Hm?” Alfred asked, frowning with confusion when he saw Arthur staring down at him, with eyes that Alfred had never seen before, like the Englishman was feeling as anxious as Alfred, even like he was trying to smile through it all.

“Forgive me, but…” Arthur muttered before biting his bottom lip.

Instantly, Alfred’s heart was in his stomach, and he could tell what this was about, “No, I—”

“If you… I’d like to… Um… What I mean is…” Arthur started, his entire face going red. _“You don’t need to keep coming here… if you just want to ask me out…”_

After a couple of moments of what was an incredibly awkward silence for both men, Alfred burst into loud laughter, much to Arthur’s confusion, and the American continued to laugh until he was at the brink of tears.

“What’s so funny?!”

_“You could have said that before you started!!”_

 


End file.
